


Pulse

by thisiswherethefishlives



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-06
Updated: 2014-11-06
Packaged: 2018-02-24 07:06:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2572562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswherethefishlives/pseuds/thisiswherethefishlives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He almost shakes his head, the better to clear his mind, but then he would have to remove his tongue from the warmth beneath him. Maintaining eye contact, watching intent as Derek’s shock morphs into something softer than he’s ever seen from the man, Stiles trails his tongue along the soft skin of the inside of the other man’s wrist.</p>
<p>”Stiles…”, Derek breathes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pulse

He almost shakes his head, the better to clear his mind, but then he would have to remove his tongue from the warmth beneath him. Maintaining eye contact, watching intent as Derek’s shock morphs into something softer than he’s ever seen from the man, Stiles trails his tongue along the soft skin of the inside of the other man’s wrist.

”Stiles…”, Derek breathes.

There’s nothing more beyond his name. No questioning, no insults, just a stuttered breath verging on benediction.

Neither one of them feels the need to fill the silence further. All Stiles can focus on is the rabbit-quick thrum of Derek’s pulse under his tongue and the taste.

Derek’s skin tastes of warmth - slightly bitter with a hint of sweat and flannel. He tastes alive.

Ever since that night in Mexico, when Stiles forced himself to turn away for what seemed like the last time, it hasn’t been enough to see that Derek survived. After the Nogi-

After what happened before he can’t afford to trust his eyes. When he was… compromised, less of himself. He’s better now, but it’s still a comfort to run his tongue along searching for pulse points.

He thinks that there’s probably a joke in there somewhere. The most human member of the group set back to the most basic of animal urges. There would probably be a joke there if it was even slightly funny. There’s nothing amusing about the urges that overwhelm him now. The need to taste the beat of Derek’s heart. The need to mark him - if only for a second before it heals - because he needs to see the rosy flush of Derek’s skin as it bruises, and the unmarred flesh that greets him after.

Pulling the older man’s thumb into his mouth it’s hard to remember how they got to this moment. There have been no confessions, though the cooling trails that his tongue has left behind speak more than he would prefer. There has been no contact at all actually, aside from the tenuous connection between his mouth and Derek’s arm.

Two weeks of pretending nothing happened between them in Mexico. Fourteen days of not enough eye contact and too many snarky lines. All leading up to this, and it should probably be disconcerting. Somewhere along the way, Stiles knows that his fight or flight reflexes went all to Hell. It should probably be scary that he’s mouthing up to the other man’s elbow.

No, that’s not quite right. It is scary, and it registers deep down just how dangerous this is.

It’s hazel eyes and stubble. It’s soft skin that goes on for days and sleep-tousled hair.

It’s Derek, and it’s terrifying, and it’s the only place he wants to be.


End file.
